


Unsteady

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Age Difference, Anime Spoilers, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Inline with canon, M/M, Manga Spoilers, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 05:29:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4864847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There’s no indication of impatience in Hibari's voice, nothing to give away the physical threat he is pressing to Dino’s throat, except for the constant stalking tension that is ever there. 'You have usurped my authority.'" Dino sends away Kusakabe and Romario and has to deal with Hibari afterward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unsteady

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shiny_Pichu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiny_Pichu/gifts).



When Dino steps into the hotel room, he’s greeted with the press of cold metal against his throat.

He stops dead in his tracks, any attempt at forward motion stalled by the threat of the weight now smooth at his neck. There’s no edge to the sensation; it’s smooth metal, not the bite of a knife, and when Dino swallows he can feel a familiar cylindrical curve against his skin. He didn’t need this proof of the weapon in question anyway; there’s more than enough information to deduce what it is in the steely eyes fixed on him, in the sweep of dark hair across pale skin.

“Kyoya,” Dino says, feeling the way the syllables hum against the metal pressed to his throat. “Hi.”

“Dino Cavallone,” Hibari says, fitting the name into the shape of intention as he speaks. There’s no indication of impatience in his voice, nothing to give away the physical threat he is pressing to Dino’s throat; there is only the constant stalking tension that is everpresent on his tongue. “You have usurped my authority.”

“What?” Dino asks, and Hibari pushes harder on the tonfa until Dino has to move backwards or choke against the weight. He takes a stumbling step, catches his shoelaces under his own foot and teeters, almost reaching out to catch himself at Hibari’s shoulder before he manages to fall backwards instead of forwards. The wall hits his shoulders with bruising impact, catches him as he slides to the floor, and for a moment he’s flinching at the ache of the fall and too distracted to meet Hibari’s gaze.

There’s a pause, silence from over him while Dino hisses hurt and reaches out to rub at the promise of a bruise he can feel forming along his shoulderblade. Then:

“You sent Romario away too,” flat and unsurprised.

“What?” Dino says again. When he looks up Hibari’s no longer threatening with the tonfas in his hands; they’re at his sides, now, idle alongside the smooth white of his shirt.

“You sent Kusakabe away,” Hibari announces, as certain as if he’s handing down a verdict. “With Romario.”

“Oh.” Dino lets his shoulder go and leans back against the wall. “Yeah. I thought they deserved the evening off.”

Hibari’s eyebrow comes up, drawing out an arch over the steady silver of his eyes. “ _You_  thought.”

“It’s been days--” Dino starts, but Hibari takes a step in closer, his foot sliding dangerously high between Dino’s sprawled-open legs, and whatever explanation he intended to offer dies into tense panic on his tongue.

“You sent a member of  _my_  Disciplinary Committee away,” Hibari reiterates, and understanding starts to form in Dino’s mind, the clarity of hindsight suggesting the foolishness of his actions. Hibari’s shadowed by the light behind him, his features made unreadable as much by the dim illumination as by his usual stoicism. “Without speaking to me.”

“Ah,” Dino says. “I.” He coughs, attempts a laugh, drags up the best apologetic smile he can muster. “I didn’t think?”

“Not well,” Hibari agrees. His hands are still steady on his tonfas, but they’re not coming up to catch the light, at least not yet. “ _Were_  you thinking?”

He makes it sound very nearly sincere, like he’s truly interested in the answer. He might even be; even with years of practice Dino has never become very good at reading Hibari’s moods, and the recent reversion to a ten-years-younger version of his Kyoya has left him even more off-balance than he is usually kept.

Dino clears his throat and attempts a sheepish grin. Usually falling into assumed foolishness is enough to dull the edge of any anger that might aim itself at him; it’s never been very effective on Hibari at any time, but it’s the best he has to offer right now. Hibari just watches him, neither comments nor bats at eye at Dino’s attempt at disarming charm. The steady consideration of his gaze is enough to turn Dino’s laugh into something high and nervous and far more sincere than it was to start.

“I just.” He hesitates; this is either going to go very well for him or very poorly, and he has no idea which direction Hibari’s mood will swing. Unfortunately, 50-50 odds are the best he has right now. “I thought it would be nice to have you alone for a little while.” He clears his throat, the tension of panic in his chest enough to dip his voice into the suggestively low range he wants to hit. “Just the two of us.”

Hibari stares at him for a moment. He doesn’t move, either to swing a tonfa or to voice a protest; his total lack of reaction is enough to jar Dino’s certainty, to have him backwards-calculating Hibari’s age  _again_ , wondering if maybe he’s speaking to far more of an innocent than he expects. But Hibari knows him, knew him without the need for introductions, and if they’ve met already then that means Dino’s overtures can’t possibly go misunderstood, even if they are unwelcome.

“I see,” Hibari says finally. It’s neither the sudden agreement nor the abrupt rejection Dino was braced for; his shoulders tighten with the confusion of it, his mind skidding as he reaches for some kind of framework for Hibari’s steady consideration. But the other’s composure is as unassailable as it ever is, glass-smooth walls set behind his eyes to keep out even Dino’s excellent intuition. “Alone.”

“Yeah,” Dino says, his voice trembling into nerves on that word. Hibari’s still looking at him, his eyes just the same as they are -- as they will be -- in the future, and for all his uncertainty Dino’s body is responding as if Hibari’s stare is a siren song. “Together.”

“Mm,” Hibari hums, offering a weird threatening resonance under the sound that tingles along Dino’s skin like static electricity. “What sort of  _activities_ did you have in mind?”

Dino’s not sure he heard correctly for a moment. The words are undeniably suggestive, the more so when touched with the elegant emphasis Hibari pressed into the noun. But Hibari still looks calm, nearly bored, and for all that he’s Hibari he’s still a teenager; there’s no way he can be so calm asking that question while Dino is thrumming himself into tight-wound strain where he sits.

Dino tips his head back against the wall, frames his mouth around the shape of a smirk. He’s slow with this one, offers far more of a taunt than he normally would dare give to Hibari, at least without his weapons to hand, and when he speaks he drawls the words long and heavy with suggestion.

“Kyoya,” and his knees go apart, his posture dipping into invitation as Hibari’s eyes skip down to track the motion. “Are you sure you’re old enough to hear?”

Dino is expecting a hiss, a threat, maybe the cold press of a tonfa against his temple. He’s ready for that, prepared to take advantage of his greater size as soon as Hibari is in range so he catch him into immobility. He’s not ready for Hibari’s chin to come up, for his eyebrow to raise into amusement, and he’s  _definitely_  not ready for the way Hibari’s foot slides sideways to press against the inside of his thigh.

“Try me,” Hibari says, and Dino has a single heartbeat to process the tension under the words, the tilt at the corner of his mouth, and is that  _amusement_  in his eyes? Then Hibari’s foot presses up, the arch fitting against the inside seam of Dino’s pants, and suddenly there’s friction, the careful press of toes against the front of jeans, and any consideration of possible readings of Hibari’s expression vanish in the rush of joint panic and interest that floods Dino’s body.

“ _Oh_ ,” he blurts, reaching up to grab at Hibari’s knee to hold off the danger of more pressure. “ _Kyoya_.”

“Speak,” Hibari commands. He can’t be oblivious to the way Dino’s rushing heartbeat is surging into heat under the press of his foot or to the flush of blood sweeping high across Dino’s cheekbones, but he appears wholly disinterested, like it’s beneath his notice. He tilts his foot forward, presses his toes in against Dino’s zipper, and Dino has to curl in against the crippling surge of heat in his veins, his cock going so instantly hard his arousal cramps heat into his stomach.

“I want you naked,” he blurts, fast and awkward as if it’s he who lost a decade of experience. “I want you out of that jacket and away from your weapons and just you.”

“My weapons,” Hibari repeats back. “You think I’m helpless without them?” There’s a warning in the tone alone -- Dino doesn’t need the extra push against his jeans to make the point -- but the rush of Dino’s racing heart is making him lightheaded, making words hard to form.

“No,” he says, and the pressure eases, turning into something more like friction as it drags a groan from his throat. “ _Ah_. No, no, Kyoya, you’re never helpless.” He shifts his shoulders, feels the ghost of scratches across his back, the memory of teethmarks in his skin. “You’re just better without a disguise.”

“ _Disguise_.” Kyoya shifts his weight, his foot sliding back from Dino’s pants to press flat to the floor. His ankle makes itself into a suggestion, offers resistance Dino doesn’t quite dare to take yet. “So you want bare skin,” he says, making the request into a mockery, twisting the words into a taunt. “And then what? Admire my exhibitionism?”

“No,” Dino says, and he does rock forward then, brings his weight up over his heels so he can push against Hibari’s foot. “I want to brace my hands against your hips and lick against the inside of your thighs.” He’s hard at the front of his jeans, is flushing hotter with every beat of his heart and every tilt of his hips, and Hibari isn’t pulling away. “I want to suck your cock until you can’t stand up straight.”

There’s pressure in Dino’s hair, fingers fisting into gold curls. Hibari’s tonfas are gone, returned to their usual location at his hip sometime while Dino was lost in the press of Hibari’s ankle against his jeans. “Have I become so weak in the future that I let you speak like this to me?”

Dino has to laugh, his mouth cracking into a grin that he can feel glowing hot in his eyes. “You don’t  _let_  me do much of anything.” When he blinks he can feel his gaze dipping into shadow, can feel his lips parting into a suggestion even before he touches his tongue slick and wet against his lower lip. “I just do it anyway.”

There’s a tiny quirk at the corner of Hibari’s mouth, a tell Dino recognizes even in this far more telltale version compared to the restrained severity to which he’s accustomed. “Do you frequently attempt to seduce strangers as well?”

“Kyoya,” Dino says, risks lifting his hands to Hibari’s hips. His fingertips fit against familiar angles, his thumbs press against the slim curve of Hibari’s waist. “The only one I ever attempt to seduce is you.”

Hibari’s weight tips forward when Dino tugs at his hips, his back arching to make nearly-an-offering of his body. When he speaks his voice is still level, as utterly self-assured as ever in spite of Dino’s advantage of age and experience both, and it goes through Dino as painless-sharp as Hibari’s words always do. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“Is it working?” Dino asks, feels the skid of Hibari’s fingers against his neck form the answer that doesn’t manage to break free of the other’s lips. He ducks his head, hums a purr of satisfaction as the touch skates along the back of his neck and under his coat to feel out the shape of his shoulders like Hibari’s mapping new territory. It brings warmth in its wake, a shudder of pleasure that runs all along Dino’s spine, and someone else might be satisfied with just that, might be content to bow his head and take what Hibari is offering without asking for any more.

But Dino is himself, and Dino is greedy. He slides his hands down along Hibari’s waist, out against the friction of his slacks and across his hips, and when he leans in closer it’s to fit his mouth against the fabric, to breathe out hard and hot against the dark cloth. Hibari’s hips come forward, his back arching into artistry Dino can’t see, and Dino’s opening his mouth wider, panting heat against Hibari’s clothes and trying to lick against the zipper before the fist in his hair drags backwards to keep his mouth out of range.

“Clothes off,” Hibari says, and Dino doesn’t look up before he moves to obey the assumed command in that tone. His hands come forward, thumbs catching at fabric and fingertips scrabbling against the metal teeth of Hibari’s zipper, and Hibari’s hand slides, his pinky slipping over Dino’s hairline to press friction against skin. The motion is delayed, hesitant in a way Dino isn’t used to, and when he gets Hibari’s slacks open there’s a flicker of movement there too, a tremor of nervous tension fluttering visibly under his skin.

Dino doesn’t pause. There may be scars missing, the hips under his hands might be narrower than he remembers, but it’s still Hibari, and years and memories don’t make any more of a difference now than they did the first moment Dino set eyes on him. He tightens his fingers, braces Hibari’s weight as he slides his thumbs over smooth skin, and when he leans in close it’s to part his lips and sigh satisfaction as he takes Hibari’s cock in over his tongue. There’s a quiver of motion under his hands, a stalled-out attempt to rock forward, but Dino has a steady enough hold to still the action before it finishes and is coming forward rapidly enough to stop any protest Hibari might put into words. Hibari makes a sound, faint and low and wordless, and Dino shuts his eyes and lets heat fill his mouth, sucks friction and wet over Hibari’s cock as he slides back to set himself into a rhythm of motion.

Hibari catches on quickly. Dino may be the one who takes the first few strokes but then the fist in his hair tightens, the hold bracing Dino in place as Hibari rocks forward himself, and this is familiar too, this resistance Hibari has to passivity of any kind. Dino doesn’t mind; he likes the unexpected slide of movement over his tongue as Hibari thrusts past his lips, and when he hums the note he strikes is pleased and purring far in the back of his throat. It feels like Hibari’s name, the vowels long and slurred, and when Hibari rocks forward Dino tilts his head back and lets the friction slip past the back of his tongue and down his throat. Hibari catches his breath, the steady pace of his inhales stalls for a moment, and then slender fingers are pressing at Dino’s hair, both of Hibari’s hands catching to pin Dino in place as he takes over the pace himself.

Dino lets him. It’s enough to have Hibari slick and hot over his tongue, the bitter so far back in his mouth he can barely catches a taste of it to linger at the back of his throat. Hibari’s hips are shifting with each thrust too, the shape of bone moving under skin against Dino’s fingers, and it’s thrilling, it’s satisfying, to come together over their gap of distance and the space of experience and still to fall into the same easy complement they have ever been to each other. Hibari’s breathing is coming faster over Dino’s head, his movements taking on the quivering intensity of anticipation, and Dino can remember this too, the way Hibari used to shudder and quake on his feet before he learned to control his reaction, to limit himself to a single trembling sigh and a faint smirk of pleasure. Dino tightens his hands and his lips at once, presses his mouth into a drag of friction at Hibari’s cock, and there’s a jerk of motion, involuntary reaction falling still at Dino’s bracing hands. They press together, fingers in hair and lips on skin, and then Dino starts to draw back and Hibari gasps over him, a groan of sound to match the spill of come across Dino’s tongue. Dino sucks hard, swallows as quickly, and when Hibari tips forward his hands catch the other’s weight to keep them balanced against each other. They stay like that for a moment -- Hibari’s fingertips digging against Dino’s scalp, Hibari’s weight trusted to Dino’s support -- and then Hibari tips back, reclaims his composure and his posture at once, and Dino lets his hands go, draws back to press his hand to his lips and swallow the familiar bitter off his tongue.

Dino knows how it goes from here, usually. There’s a period of Hibari recollecting himself, straightening his clothes and steadying his breathing before he tugs Dino to his feet and backs him against a wall or out over the bed to jerk him off or strip him down for another round. Habit tells him to struggle upright, to press his weight over unsteady feet while he’s still flushed and hot with desire; he’s thinking about that, just starting to get a foot under himself, when there’s movement, a flutter of clothing and the slide of fingers, and then Hibari’s on his knees in front of him, his cheeks tinged faintly pink and lips parted on his inhales, and Dino’s chest goes tight and hot.

“Kyoya,” he manages, his throat tightening on the affection he doesn’t usually get to indulge in, and then he can’t speak because Hibari’s mouth is on his, his lips hot and pressing bruising force against Dino’s. Dino makes a strangled noise, startled pleasure going liquid on his tongue, and Hibari’s fingers loosen in his hair, slide down to trace out the bottom edge of his t-shirt instead. There’s movement at his lips, the quick slide of a tongue at his mouth, and while Dino’s sucking in a gasp of satisfaction his belt falls open under Hibari’s fingers, his jeans catch at the other’s reaching touch.

They break apart for a moment, Dino’s shudder rocking him backwards from the press of Hibari’s mouth as fingers fit past his undone zipper to press against the thin fabric of his boxers. Dino can feel Hibari’s fingers as clear as if they are made of fire, the pressure they offer coursing under his skin and flaring into friction in his blood, and when he grabs at Hibari’s shoulders his hold is desperate, as much for his own benefit as to hold the other in place.

“ _Kyoya_ ,” he says again; then, as Hibari huffs against his mouth and fumbles himself to the top edge of Dino’s boxers: “You don’t have to,” the words spilling fast as the leading edge of guilt starts to hit him. It was easy to fall back on habit and years-old experience when Dino had his eyes shut, easy to align with a body whose motions are the same even if the past-tense form might be somewhat different. But with Hibari on his knees his too-young features are impossible to ignore, the steel of his eyes lacks the honed edge Dino is used to seeing, and suddenly the gap seems impossible to cross.

Hibari frowns at him, eyes narrowing into irritation, and he doesn’t stop. “I assure you,” he enunciates, picking through his words as carefully as if they are a minefield, “I feel no sense of obligation to you at all.”

Dino’s exhale comes out as a coughed laugh, shock turning itself to sound without his intent. “You’re harsh as ever, Kyoya.”

Hibari doesn’t laugh. There is, however, a catch at the corner of his mouth, a motion that starts to form the shape of a smile before he can restrain it into deliberate tension instead. The sight makes Dino laugh again, the sound purring into satisfaction in his throat, and then Hibari’s fingers are past his clothes and dragging against his cock and any further possibility of restraint evaporates.

“ _Oh_ ,” he says, and he’s leaning in, rocking up into Hibari’s touch. A hand closes around him, Hibari’s fingers settling into place like he’s done this hundreds of times, and the hand still in Dino’s hair slides down to curl into a bruising hold at the back of his neck.

“I’m doing this because I  _want_  to,” Hibari says, clear and cold on every word. It doesn’t make sense that they should strike through Dino like fire, that they should melt a groan off his lips and into the air, but rationality has never been a staple between them, and Dino doesn’t question his reaction now. He’s far from words in any case, his coherency slipping farther from him with each drag of Hibari’s fingers, until when a thumb catches and pushes against the slick head of his cock he can’t manage anything but a choking inhale, a desperate “ _Kyoya_ ” to match the way his fingers dig in hard against slender shoulders. There’s a huff of air, a suggestion of sound, and then Hibari’s mouth is on Dino’s again, stealing his air as easily as his fingers are stealing Dino’s composure. Hibari exudes a calm beyond his years, or perhaps it is Dino who is made to feel breathlessly inexperienced by Hibari’s proximity. He lacks the resources to consider the question, lacks the ability to do anything but gasp and cling, and when Hibari’s hand tightens and pulls it’s Dino’s restraint that he strips away, leaving him to breathe a broken shape of Hibari’s name as those fingers stroke him into white-blind heat. There’s sound against Dino’s lips, a smile or maybe even a voiceless laugh, but Dino can’t think of that, can’t offer a response in kind; he’s too busy shuddering into release, each pulse of pleasure radiating up his spine to burst sun-bright in his thoughts, and when he tips forward it’s to catch himself at Hibari’s shoulder and let the other bear his weight a moment.

Hibari lets him linger while the first thrum of heat fades into a warm glow of satisfaction. Dino breathes deep against Hibari’s jacket, smiles into the fabric, and then turns sideways, pressing his nose into affection at Hibari’s throat for the moment he is allowed to linger. He knows this will get him a shove, the friction of fingers abandoning his skin as Hibari rocks back and away, but it’s worth it for the momentary press of lips to skin, for the taste of Hibari that clings to his mouth when he loses his balance and topples backwards to the support of the wall.

Hibari considers his hand, flexes sticky fingers with a consideration so stoic it carries a weight of distaste a frown or complaint could not. It makes Dino grin, the satisfaction in his veins making him reckless, and when he says, “You lick your fingers clean when you’re older,” he’s braced for the icy danger in the stare Hibari gives him.

“You’re welcome to wait until then,” Hibari says as he gets to his feet. His clothes are more rumpled than Dino is used to seeing, his slacks only half-on and his jacket slipping off one shoulder. But on his feet the shadows grant his features the lines they will have in the future, and besides Dino’s never needed motivation beyond Hibari himself to offer breathless appreciation of the other.

“I’m taking a shower,” Hibari announces, stepping carefully over Dino’s outstretched legs as he makes for the bathroom. “Feel free to remain there until I return.”

Dino tips his head to watch him go, fumbles through hazy thoughts for the right way to frame his request; in the end he just blurts it, quick and rushed: “Want company?”

There’s no spoken answer. But there is a rustle of clothing, the sound of fabric sliding on itself, and then a flutter of dark cloth, almost-wings cutting the air before Dino can reach up to catch the weight of what proves to be Hibari’s jacket set free of his shoulders. Dino considers this offering a moment, feels the warmth of Hibari’s body still caught in the shape of the shoulders and breathes in the familiar biting spiciness of his hair that clings to the collar; then he grins in delight, and tosses the jacket aside, and scrambles to join Hibari in the bathroom.

Hibari is furious, after, that his jacket has been so ill-treated, but by then Dino lacks the energy to care about anything but sucking water droplets off Hibari’s shoulders.


End file.
